Krespin's Revenge
by Jack's Raging Bile Duct
Summary: Nathan Krespin, an Unreal Tournament Champ, finds himself out of work thanks to sinister plots. Please R&R.
1. Morning Paper

Nathan Krespin, known in the Unreal Tournament sector as simply Krespin, woke up with a bland taste in his mouth that he was beginning to grow accustom to. Doctors of the Liandri Rules Board credited this side effect to being respawned many times over his UT career. The correct term for 'respawn' was Post Death Recreation or PDR, and that the taste was caused by the bodies attempt to stabilize fluids that the body lost during respawning. All Nathan needed to know was how to cure it. Doctors said that it was simply a side effect that would take care of itself over time. 

He crawled out of bed and stumbled to his bathroom, hitting the switch that opened his window blinds of his eightieth story apartment, high above the city of Gilder on New Terra. He looked in the mirror, his silver hair in devilish twists and curls, and fumbled for his toothbrush to scrub his mouth of the taste. When he was done with that, he took a shower and took inventory of 46 years worth of scars. His most impressive scar had nothing to do with the tournament and was actually caused during his childhood when he fell off a ladder his father had told him not to climb. 

With towel on waist, he went to the kitchen where a box of corn flakes stood, opened, and half finished. He sat and began crunching away on his breakfast when he picked up the morning paper his housecleaner left before she finished her work for the day. Nathan flipped past all the sections that had to do with the outside world, like politics and crime, and went straight to the sports section, the section that had updates on all the Unreal Tournament events. Looking to see who won last night's team deathmatch, he noticed an article with his name. The article was titled, "_Curtains for Krespin_". 

"What the-", he said continuing to read. The article said that in the latest popularity poll of UT combatants, that Krespin's popularity as an entertainer was reaching an all time low. Nathan was particularly infuriated with the comment by the up and coming rookie to UT, Othello, who said, "It's time that someone tell grandpa Krespin to hit the showers". Was this how they treated athletes who gave their all for more then fifteen years in a sport where most never lived past their second? Was this how they treated an athlete to win the Deathmatch trophy five times and Capture the Flag trophy three times? A man who was ranked number one more years then anyone? He continued to read:

"… earlier today, Hector Manning, spokesmen for 

the Liandri Programming Board, stated that the once

lucrative athlete known to his fans as Killer Krespin

would no longer be returning to the Tournament

on account of his recent slump on the battlefield…"

"Those bastards," he said reaching over and grabbing his videophone, "dial Dante Bello!"

"_Yes Nathan,_" the phone responded. 

Dante Bello was Nathan's public representative. He was the stereotypical grease bag agent. Naturally he was suave, handsome, and always wore sunglasses, even when he was indoors. Often, Nathan considered firing him but Dante was the best in the business and was responsible for getting him the opportunity to get an interview for the tournament in the first place. He was also the reason that Nathan still lived as comfortably as he did, managing to get him endorsements even though he hadn't placed in the top ten fighters in over four years. 

On the other end of the phone Dante responded, "Now I know what you're going to say Nathan."

"Then why don't you save me the trouble of going ballistic on you and tell me how you're going to resolve this!"

Dante took off his sunglasses. "I've all ready gotten you a meeting with Jerl Liandri himself, scheduled for four o'clock."

"You're going to be there right?"

"Well that's the thing Nathan, I've got a meeting with a new client of mine and I won't be free."

"You've got to be kidding me? You turn and leave me when I need you most. Who the fuck is it Dante? Who? You worthless sack of shit."

"I'm worthless? Why don't you tell me who was your guardian angel when you managed to come in last place for the last five months?" Dante rubbed his hair back before continuing; "It's time I move on to up and coming athletes, which is why I'm now representing Othello." 

Nathan jumped up, throwing his seat backwards," You know the only reason I'm not as good as I was, is because of something PDR related! It's as if right at the most important times in the match I get this dragging feeling that weighs me down."

"Be that as it may, I see no point in dragging my career, as an agent, down with you. You were great Nathan, but that was a long time ago."

"You listen to me, and you listen good. I'm going to make a comeback the likes of which has never been seen before. I'm going to get a match with Othello and when I kill him, I'm going to ram his severed head down your fucking throat!" 

"Good luck," Dante said with a smile just before Nathan cut the communication. 


	2. The Meeting

Nathan walked down the smooth marble hallway to the end office where the name Jerl Liandri stood in gold letters on the mahogany door. Nathan wasn't surprised to see surveillance cameras on every corner of the ceiling, or that there were two extremely large and rather grisly looking guards standing in front of the door. He was tempted to ram their skulls together to soothe his rage, but figured with this kind of high tech protection, machine guns would probably extend out of the wall and quickly put an end to his day; and he was right.

He stood in front of the two waiting for them to let him pass. He wondered how long one of these dopes would last in a Deathmatch; three minutes, no wait two minutes he said to himself. Everyone thought that all you had to be, to win in Unreal Tournament, was tough, but there was so much more. You had to be quick and creative. You had to posses the kind of skill that few have. Definitely two minutes. 

The one to his right spoke, "Hold out your arms," he said in a deep and almost synthetic voice.

"You know you're about the tenth person to search me for a weapon since I got here."

"Turn around," the second guard said. 

Nathan did as they said. They placed his arms behind his back and put his hands in cuffs that covered his whole arm up to the elbow. This must have been standard procedure to see one of the most important men in the whole damn universe. Nathan thought that it was probably a smart idea on behalf of Jerl, considering that most of the UT contestants could kill a man bare handedly with one squeeze. They proceeded to lead him through the door. 

Once through the door, Nathan felt a cool breeze and turned his head towards its origin. The source of the air was from another door to his left, in which, a beautiful woman came stumbling out, zipping up her short, red nylon, mini skirt. She blushed when she noticed there was company. 

"Ohh," she said turning around in the direction she had came. Nathan took a quick glance at her long legs and noticed that there was something white on the side of her mouth. "Mr. Liandri, your four o'clock meeting is here."

"Whipe your face Velma," the voice through the door said.

Once again the girl blushed. She quickly followed the order, "Yes Mr. Liandri." When she finished cleaning up, she led Nathan through the second door. 

The sight of Jerl Liandri's office was enough to make a billionaire jealous. Nathan walked toward the desk that seemed to be fifty yards away. To his left there was a bar and a lounge area with several big screen TVs. On his right there was a waterfall that seemed to come out of the wall and ended on the floor. Nathan wanted to know how the water didn't flood the place. It was as if Jerl had the power to tell the water where to stop. Looking up Nathan stopped in his tracks as he saw that the ceiling was a tank filled with all sorts of aquatic life, mainly sharks and stingrays. The aquarium went as far as Liandri's desk, at that point in turned into this beautiful glass incased terrace with gold and silver frames. Nathan thought he had stepped into a fantasy realm but was quickly brought down to the ground when from behind the chair at the desk, Jerl surfaced. 

"Nathan, how much money did you make because of the tournament?"

"Sir, about twenty one point five billion dollars." Nathan, as well as everyone else knew that no matter what, you always show Mr. Liandri respect. He was considered a god among men.

"Then answer me this, why are you here right now?" Jerl always had a way of making you think you were an idiot. He stood up. His body was long and thin, but very muscular. He wore black, which made his all ready broad shoulders seem broader. "Do you think you've been treated unfair?"

"No sir, its not that."

"Then what?" 

"Of all the people in the universe, I would imagine you would know what respect is. The way you publicly executed my career and humiliated me was low."

"Watch who your talking to Mr. Krespin. It was all in the name of selling papers."

"You son of a bitch!" Nathan ran up to Jerl only to meet Jerl's boot with his face."

"You ungrateful little shit!" He kicked Nathan in the ribs while he was down. Then he bent over and pulled Nathan by the hair. "Fifteen years ago, you were nothing but a drunk mining jockey in the arm pit of civilization. Then as a personal favor to Dante, I saw that you were given a shot. And much to my surprise you were good. Now you have the balls to walk into my office and act as if I owe you a hero's farewell. Fuck You."

A small stream of blood spilt down Nathan's lip. He wanted to break Jerl's face but his hands were bound. He looked down and threw his head back, smacking into Jerl's jaw. 

In what felt like half a heart beat, the two guards were all ready in the room beating Nathan senseless. Jerl opened the window to his highrise terrace as one of the guards held Nathan out. "You could have lived out your days watching me grow more powerful Nathan, but now your going to fall to you death!"

He felt the guard's grip loosen when he managed to get out the words, "Why kill me like this, when people will pay to see a has-been get his."

Jerl stopped the guard from letting go. "Go on, " Jerl said, "I'm listening."

"If your so sure I done as an athlete, put me in a Last Man Standing match with an athlete your sure is gonna win, say Othello. Here's the catch, each one of us is only allowed respawning twice. That means on the third frag, one man leaves a winner and the other leaves in a body bag for good."

Jerl took a moment to consider. He returned out on the ledge. "I'll tell ya what Nathan, You give me a call tomorrow morning, and you got your self a deal."

Nathan was relieved. He thought he was going to be pulled back in when the guard let him fall. On the way to his crashing death he heard Jerl say, "Call me…" and Jerl's hideous laughter become more faint as he fell closer and closer to his death.


End file.
